19 3 5
beoause it is
tradition, although it
ia a T9ry worth/ one, wo,
the Freihnan Rhotorio olasses of 1935-
1936 pra80nt this first Green Book to
you* We hare watohed it grow with
anxious interest - compiled it with
loring oare - and we hope you will
enjoy it as muoh as we hare* From
it you may get a picture of our hearts ■
fresh and young and full of the joy of
J f /
. J; "J^yj -
Because you hare made ua appreciate
I history more than we erer did before,
beoauae you hare raised our standards of
i scholarship, because you hare proved to
us that eduoation and religion are com-
' patible, and because - most priceless
gift of all - you hare deepened our faith
in God - we, the Freshman class of 1935-
| 1936 gratefully, gladly dedicate this
Editorial* •.»•••••••••.••••••.•••• .Rosa Rice
The Snowshoe Trail •••••••••••••« Jean Goodnow
Dishes Bertha Rutkowski
What Prioe Football... ...Neal Wilson
Wherein Lies Porerty. •••••••• .Margaret Orser
Rain at Night....... ....Margaret Orser
No Fussing......... ........... .Mary Habeoker
Desire - A Poem...... Florenoe Mentall
Friendship - A Poem .Florenoe Mentall
A Philosophy...... .....Bernioe Seaaans
The Sailor ..Wilbur Mullen
The Campus at Night..............Mary Larson
The Christaas Crowd. • Bula Wright
Sharing. ••*.. .Glenn Tyner
In a Day's Work.......... Virginia Hawk
Dormitory Days... .Rose Rioe
Snaps ••••••••••• •.••••••••••••••••••••
\J\ we realize that we hare all of life
before us, we Freshman, and we are afraid. But we
hare youth and intelligence and ambition, yes, and
&T9n pride - the kind that makes us want to go out and more the
world, oxen though we know that we are small and weak, infinitesimal
in the sight of God and man. We know that life holds much of pain
and sorrow for us, but yet there will be times of fierce, burning,
bursting joy and times of deep, abiding contentment. We long to
meet life in its fullest intensity, on its own terms, to pit our
feeble strength against its problems, and to oonquer it.
Then let us keep our illusions, you who are older and
wiser than we, for we shall need thea. Let us believe that life is
a great and glorious thing and that we are master of our own destiny.
It will help us some time when the way gets dark and rough and we
cannot see the next step ahead. It will give us confidence in our-
selves when all others doubt us; it will Bare us from many an hour
of despair. And maybe - after all - life will be kind and let us
keep them, these precious, inspiring, God-given illusions that are
a part of our very souls.
Rosa Rioe ................... .Editor-in-Chief
Donnabelle Ruth... . ... .Associate Editor
Elliott Gordon. •••••••• •••••Business Manager
AlTin Kauf fraan ••• .Artist
a beautiful morning to go swinging along over the
snowshoe trail J There is a light snow over a crust
just strong enough to hold us up* The leader sets
the pace and off we start* The outfits of the snowshoers make a
splash of color against the white of the snow.
As we travel up through the fields we can see in the
distance the White Mountains, whits not only in name but white in
reality now* On the left are Mount Washington and the Presidential
range and over there to the right are Lafayette and the Franconia
range. Still farther south is Mount Moosilauke. We oan see the tip-
top house today* Now we are entering the woods. Wouldn't this baby
tree make the prettiost Christmas tree? And see, there is a big one
nearly perfect in shape* Are we going through these thick cedar
bushes? That snow will drop right down our necks* In passing we
bruise the cedar tips, and what a delicious smell comes from them J
We sniff and sniff and yet can't get enough of the Christmasy scent.
We are in a break in the woods. All around us are
tall firs, balsams, pines, and Norway pines with their long needles*
They stand there with boughs drooping to the ground under the weight
of last night's snow. We stop for a few minutes to look, - just look.
A ohickadee calls from the tree beside me* There he is, peeking at
us and calling his friendly greeting. Here beside my foot is a
track, a squirrel path* It comes from the chickadee's tree and goes
way over to tha llghtening-s truck pine. Yes, I can see why he came
over hare; for pine seeds, or what is left of then, are scattered
around under the tree. I wonder where he is now and what he is
doing* As we start along, friend ohiokadee calls a farewell from
Here is a rabbit track - and he is in a hurry. Look. 1
Quiokly, over there i See those deer? Now they are gone, waving
their white flags and kicking up their heels triumphantly. It was a
buck and a doe. Too bad we didn't see them sooner. We are crossing
the wee brook now. It has a nightcap on, too, like the tree3, but
in places it has pulled off its cap and is singing merrily away.
Here is a hill to climb; dig in your toes. We are at the top. Let's
all slide down on our snowshoes. What fun, even if we did get snow
all over ourselves i
Again we come to the little brook meandering on it3
way, still singing its song of joy at escaping from its nightcap.
Almost home now; here is the gate leading onto the road. Now we will
take off our snowshoes and go in and toast our toes by the fire and
Tme there is nothing so heart-rending as a pile
of dishes crying to be washed. Like children 1 s
faces smudged with bits of egg, potato, cake, and
jam, they hara an impish way of gazing up at one which sends me
into a frenay of aotion. I grab the nearest one and begin rigor-
ously, to scrub it. Sometimes, much to my surprise and dismay,
one of them eludes me and oauses me much grief.
Still, when at last they stand olean, fresh, and
shiny before me, I feel well compensated for all my exasperating
idea of hitch-hiking to a
football game at eleven o'olock at night caused
a friend and me to brave the cold of late
November and start to a much discussed game that was to be
played at two o'clock the next day.
The town where the game was to take place was
located nearly a hundred miles from our starting point. We had
no money or means of transportation - except two pairs of thumbs -
and one thumb apiece was really the only necessity. Any graduate
of the School of Hitch-hiking knows that the thumb of the right
hand is all anyone needs in this modern age of automobile travel
Traveling by automobile is all right at any time of
day or night, if you don't depend on someone to offer his car as
a means of transportation. The possibilities of getting a kind
soul to help you along late at night is slim. It also takes more
nerve than brains to ask for a lift at an unusual hour.
Nevertheless, we did obtain a ride in a truck that
brought us twelve miles closer to our goal. Leaving the truck we
had to endure the cold, wintry, damp air for several hours before
we were given a ride - by two hunters in an old touring car. They
drove us several miles and let us out in a dark and lonely spot
about three miles from a small town.
We started walking in what was now a cold, misty,
penetrating rain that actually cooled our ardor for football •
We tried to keep up our spirits by imagining a
seriousness concerning our predicament with expressions like,
"We must press on; there is no turning back now; the battle has
just begun. Are we men, or are we worms? That is the question;
what are we?" Then we would go down in the dumps again with,
"We're just a couple of 'saps' - taking a chance on pneumonia for
a game that we probably won't seei" We would sing awhile and talk
awhile, then sing some more, then talk, until we found ourselves
at last in the Tillage, which had long since completely gone to
sleep. We spied a car down the road and quickly walked in that
direction, hoping that the doors were unlocked and we could at
least hare a place to rest* Luck was with us and we spent the
night in the oar. The next morning we were successful in getting
breakfast. In fact, we had two of them. One wasn't quite enough
to give that feeling of satisfaction.
After our breakfasts we went to the highway again
and started thumbing, I on one side of the road thumbing toward
home and he on the other thumbing toward the town we had started
for. We decided that the first automobile that stopped would either
mean home or it would mean the game. The first oar that stopped was
going to what had been our original destination, and the driver was
from our home town. This was our lucky day J
Upon reaching the stadium another question presented
itself. How were we getting in? Three dollars was a great deal of
money in any language. We solred this problem by getting on the
good side of a fellow selling programs. Those who sold programs
could go in or out wheneTer they wished and never bother about a
ticket. We finally persuaded our Tictim to let us use some of his
programs and pretend that we were selling them. It was easy. We
saw the whole game. But I forget the score; I eren forget who won.
But I do remember one thing. Our friend with the
automobile was the answer to a subconscious prayer. He certainly
was sent with a purpose - to get us home - and he didn't lose any
time in doing it.
f**£ Jk U£&*^
AMOK. jJm sa y that J Bm P°°r» They are sorry for the
poor little girl who oust liT© in an old gray-
house and who oannot go all the time to play as
their children do. They fear that I am unhappy and think they
are glad that they oan lire in big houses and go to fine places
and see grand people. Their children do not like to play with
me much, for I haren't the fine clothes that they ha*e, and I
oan only tell stories and say poems when they wish only to
make their lips and cheeks too red and their eyelashes so black
they look frightful; and when I woioe my displeasure, they re-
ply that I should go where I might see how "nioe" people do.
Then they lea-re me - but I do not mind. I am tired. It is
wearisome listening to such people for rery long.
Then I go home where I can talk to a man who
has been shipwrecked and oast on a lorely island, or to the
little men who are but six inches high, or I play with Alice;
and I like these people rery muoh, for they do things that I
should like to do. They do not oare because I am poor, and I
oan tell them that I am rery happy and they beliere me. They
like to listen to my stories and poems.
Or I sit with my sister who is older than I and
we talk of many things. She is pretty, and e-teryone likes my
sister; they oannot help it. Many times ha*e I heard other
girls ask her to join them. She does at times, but always when
she comes home she tells me she cannot understand those girls*
"They think they are so old. They do not wish to do the things
meant for girls - things that I enjoy.
Then she tells me about other girls whoa she knows
Yery, rery well. Their names ara ifeg and Beth and Jo, and some-
times there ara others, but I like them the best, and I know she
Ioyos them, for she tries Yery hard to bo like them.
But, of course, I cannot always keep suoh compan-
ions about me; so when my work is done I often walk far into the
fields. I am thrilled at all the riches God has given. The
beautiful, magic birds and butterflies delight me, and I sit down
amidst all this glory and gaae into the sky. At first I wonder how
the olouds more and where they go. I wonder about what is on the
other side of that vast bluoness, and I think, "Why doesn't someone
make a ladder millions and millions of miles long to climb up there?"
Then I see lovoly ohildren playing and beautiful boats on the water
and many handsome white horses, and nymphs about sparkling fountains.
The great sun with its heat and brightness awes me, and I thank Him
who placed such a wonderful creation there where all might share it.
Then I must go, but I will come again often, for
there is no limit to contentment here.
So, when I see others who hare Yery muoh of that which
money buys and are yet unsatisfied and only want more and costlier
things, who oan find pleasure in nothing but things artificial,
then I smile and I say, M I am sorry you are so poor*"
can hear outside the mighty pattering of wind-
scattered rain, the splashing of puddles, autos
swishing through the blackly glistening street.
I think of tall, dripping trees bold against the sky, capturing
in their branches the wild sigh of the wind. I feel the bleak,
wet darkness. I should like to be out in that rain tonight.
^gO r^ family has sozae rules and regulations that
WC ar9 observed to the letter. There are the spoken
laws or would-be written laws. Then we haye some
laws whioh are seldom spoken, but are as rigidly observed.
Among these is the law that no matter how proroked
we may beoome at times with one another we neTer mention our grier-
anoe outside of the family. And we seldom disouss suoh differences
eren with the other members of the family. Perhaps, then I should
say that family loyalty is the law about whioh our whole family life
circles. But since loyalty cannot exi3t without lore, maybe I should
ha-re oalled lore the hub of the family wheel.
Lore ha3 so saturated our family relationship that
we seem to haye no laws, written or unwritten, until we stand off
and try to look at the family from an impersonal point of riew.
One of the oldest laws I hare known to exist is that oalled n no
fussing". This includes no heated disoussions, no sharp, cutting
remarks, and no unkind actions. This has been so rigidly enforced
and obeyed by all members that our home has gained a reputation for
its tranquility. And it wasn't "company manners", either, for we
were free and natural at all times.
The "no fussing" law was foroibly impressed on my
mind at the age of ten and I hare nerer forgotten that lesson. We
were haring dinner in the dining roomj Daddy was at the head of the
tables Mother at the foot; and sister and I were to sit on
one side or the other* Sister did sit down, but on what,
whether rightly or not, I termed my side of the table. And I
wanted to sit there* My faoe grew long; tears were not far;
but suddenly zny attention was drawn from my immediate troubles*
What was Daddy going to do? He was getting up from his ohair*
Was he going to whip me? Surely I was as right as my sister,
and Daddy was neTer unfair* Why, he was taking the dishes off
the table ! Weren't we going to ha-»e any dinner? I watohed him
oarry all the food out to the kitohen table and Mother helped
him after she saw what he was doing* After Daddy had set that
table, Sister and I hurriedly sat down to await his explanation,
frightened by the unique experience and by my father's silence.
When we were all seated, Daddy said, M Do you see where you are
I tearfully said, M Tes."
Then he replied, "Hereafter sit in the same
place in the dining room*" With that remark dinner proceeded
The discipline we received from these family
laws not only produced a sweet harmony in our home, but better
fitted us to meet the laws and trials of the world without
fussing and complaining*
WayY^'^^ 4 '
On rushes the hungry wind
Down to the sea.
And as I stand on a high oliff top
Ify heart rushes gladly
thought I knew you through and through,
And yet -
You said one thing just yesterday
Which made ne doubt myself -
It seems I only knew the outside you,
And the inside you as through a mere
Ao qua intance •
r , I ( rjS" ryr r , - )
_/ w - — ' v^ ^y y^y j \s ^
b seems strange that one's philosophy of life
should change with every mood or change of environ-
ment* Yet it is not so strange, either, when we
consider all the different elements which may hare a part in in-
fluencing our attitude toward life.
Surely you can think of days when it seems as though
you must hare rolled from the wrong side of the bed. What is the
use of living, and why stay around and be in the way? The vegetable
man doesn't have the kind of vegetable you had planned for and
nothing else looks good; the telephone rings constantly; a sales-
man comes to talk just when you should be preparing dinner, and when
you do get started you turn the gas too high and the potatoes burn.
Can you recall the days you tried to buy a dress and all the dresses
you liked were either too small or too large; or the day you were in
a special hurry and the car refused to start? As you drop into bed
at night you wonder what is the use of living anyway.
Then there are the days when the sun shines across
your bed to wake you from a peaceful sleep and you roll out wondering
why you hadn't got up an hour earlier. Work seems to fly and there
is plenty of time for extra fun. Everyone is happy, too, and as you
slide between oool sheets at night you hope that today will repeat
There are also the days when you have got away from
areryone and oan sit by some quiet lako aciong the mountains. You
would like to sit forerer and drink in the beauty of nature. You
lore the splendor of the mountains reflected in the mirror of the
quiet lake and the rustling of the leares brings drowsiness. Why
can't you do just as you please - always seems to be your one de-
But baok in cirilization you find yourself some
Sunday morning in a little churoh listening to a missionary who
for twenty years has been struggling with almost less than nothing
to bring joy to poor, hungry souls, and you are filled with ambition.
You would like to go out and turn the world orer - but all you can
do is to drop a few extra coins on the collection plate.
Every day there is some new thing to thrill us -
something to giro us hope or joy. But the sad times - the trials
and the sorrows of life are what keep us human and tolerant and
understanding of our fellowmen*
\ rl I I rjr
i m happened by chance to enter a house down by the
sea shore, intending to s tay about three minutes,
but my little risit was lengthened out to an hour.
My interest was held by the sole occupant of that house - an old
When I entered, the old man was sitting in the
middle of the floor mending a net with swift and perfect strokes
of the shuttle. While he continued to work I studied him rery
carefully. He was about seTsnty, and had white hair, and a mus-
taohe of the same oolor out in sailor fashion. He was thin but
hearily built, and showed signs of haring had an extremely musoal-
ar body in his younger days. He had lost all his former strength
and ritality, and he was now merely the skeleton of what he once
had been. But he still had the same spirit, and as he related to
me some of his thrilling experiences, his whole frame became tense,
his eyes flashed, and one could imagine that he was going through
the experiences himself.
On the outside the sailor was but a plain old man,
but, when one knew a little about his former life, the man became
a different being* It was not until he had related one of his
whaling stories that one could understand his sudden exclamations
or expressions of some other emotions of by-gone days. But his
light blue eyes seemed to hold in them a mystery that had not in
any way been told by the old whaler* Many people had tried with-
out success to penetrate the thought* that lurked back of those
As I sat there watching the deft fingers of the
old man, I seemed to be put under an enchantment* I was not able
to escape from it, eren though I had to go* I was reminded of the
Ancient Mariner, from whom the young man could not escape while the
old seaman was telling his tale* In Tain I tried several times to
rise and go, but the clear, smooth roioe held me spellbound* The
story was fascinating, appealing to me more than any other experi-
ence I had erer heard*
At last the old man stopped and looked out of the
window* Then he began talking about things that I was acquainted
with, and the spell was broken* At last I was able to go, and he
rery kindly invited me to come again*
I repeated my -visits often, and each time the same
feeling came over me* It is a sensation that cannot be explained*
All I am able to say is that the old tar was a mystery, and until
one goes to sea for fifty-two years and endures similar experiences
he will not be able to interpret in any measure the mystery that
hurried down the dormitory steps with my books
under my arm* All ay lessons for the morrow were
yet to bo prepared. As I approached Fowler Memorial,
I was suddenly aware of the beauty of the night and the spell it
oast orsr the oampus*
Instead of going up to the library as I had planned,
I walked up the path and turned* The moon was large and yellow*
It looked oaressingly down upon the oampus* The tall* stately
pillars of the Ad* Building appeared more stately tonight* The
paths and walks winding in and out through the trees were white
and glistening* I forgot my lessons* I was lost in a world of
j «■» y ^ — ' ^ -/j >
^i is early on the morning of December twenty-four*
The weather is cold and snappy* All the clerks are
wearing sweaters to keep themselves warm*
As yet there hare been only a few customers - small
boys and girls who buy ten-cent toys for smaller brothers and sis-
ters or candy to supplement the breakfast which not so long ago
was crammed down in order for them to go window shopping all the
I am busy refilling the oandy oounter when the
door is pushed open with a squeak and a bright-faced girl with
rosy cheeks and laughing eyes blows in* She wears a hunter-
green ski suit with a bright red soarf and mittens* There is
another splash of red in the socks she is wearing with her low
moccasins* Even if the store were not decorated, and even if
everything did not hare some aspect of Christmas about it, one
would get a Christmasy feeling only looking at this girl with
the laughing eyes* She stops before the book counter*
M I want a book written by William Beebee* He has
read all of Beebee 's books but the last two* Hare you those?"
"Yes", I answer* "Here they are* Do you want
both of them? Together they are $1*98."
"Yes, I'll take them, and a box of the best
chocolates you hare*" She smiled to herself as if she were
contemplating some secret joke* Taking her packages under her
arm, she swings out of the store and a ray of sunlight seems to
have departed* The door is pushed open again and an old lady
"Goodness xnei but it's cold out* It's a pity a
body has to budge out of the house on a day like this* But the
Christmas shopping just has to be done, because if you didn't
send any presents people would say you were stingy.
"Let's see ! What hare you got for children's
stockings? I want something pretty and serriceable, but not
expensive* I oan't spend all my money on somebody else's chil-
dren* Let me look at those brown ones*" She feels them* "Yes*
those feel pretty thick* I'll take two pairs*"
After paying for them, she takes up her shopping
bag into which she has put the stockings, and plods out of the
store as a shabby boy about fourteen years old comes in*
The boy stops at the candy counter and looks hun-
grily at the ohooolates there* Tearing himself away, he walks
slowly down the aisle looking from side to side as if he were un-
decided as to what he wants* Often he stops before some article,
but shaking his head goes on* At last he turns and drags himself
out of the store*
Thus the day goes by* Denser and denser beoomes
the orowd until it is almost impossible to get through* Finally
eleven o'clock comes. The people begin to go home* 1 go
home then myself, to wrap the remainder of my Christmas
presents and get ready for the morrow.
C^aJLilJ ">t<4uLj .
Treason I don't like to shave is that it takes too
long to get started, but after I get the preliminaries
done I enjoy the thrilling adventures I have while
doing the job*
The first thing I do is lay a smoke screen of soft,
white lather, to unnerve the enemy and to hide them from their own
headquarters* Then comes the massacre. I take my bowie knife and
enter the smoke screen - unafraid - and confident of success* I
begin to mow down the enemy with a blood-curdling scrape, cutting
every one to the ground, leaving little pools of blood here and there
over the hillside.
Nevertheless, I always get a lesson from their gallant
defeat* They stand there as brave as an Indian chief, facing their
death with their faces toward the battle front*
V/^ ~ / Cl-13 , /£/-' v
-ji good introduction to psychology may bo acquired
outside of a college classroom* I profited much
by an interesting study of different representatives
of the "reading public" as they entered the door of "The Corner
Book Shop", where I worked this past summer*
The Mrs. "Dr." Kelley stalks in, attended by her pet
poodle and her most gracious, condescending air. She asks for "the
latest book by Sinclair Lewis."
"I'm sorry, Madam," (one says "madam" unconsciously
to her) "but that book is out. Would you like to have your name put
on the reservation list for it?"
"No, I'll look around."
"The books on that small table are on the current
'Herald Tribune' list of international best sellers."
"What is the 'Paths of Glory*?"
"That is a story of the World War. It appeals
especially to mea."
"I'm sure I wouldn't care for it. Are there no new
books in that are very good?"
" 'The Sleeping Child', the third book from the end,
is a late book which all readers have enjoyed. Also, that one,
'Ripe Breadfruit', has been recommended highly by our best readers."
After a disdainful, cursory glance at several of the
books on the table, she lifts her lorgnette from her aristocratic
nose and makes her dignified exit with the parting remark, "Perhaps
there will be something here to read the next time I come in."
I gasped, for there were nearly eight hundred 1934
and 1935 books on the shelves, nearly all best sellers at one time.
Then I smiled to myself as she was carried away in her beautiful car
with all the style and pomp granted to queens.
The bell on the door rang vigorously and I hurried to
attend to another customer.
Enter - a pleasant-faced, bustling lady with about six
books in her arms. I proceeded to get out the cards for the different
book3 and calculate the charge.
"All right, and I'm taking these books. My bus is
coming." She grabbed the outside covers from the books and fairly
ran out the door. Some of her energy seemed to be communicated to
me as I filled out the cards quickly and accurately.
My next customer is a very attractive young woman, the
Mrs. Jerry Smith. She is the new wife of the grocer across the street
and the added dignity well becomes her.
"That certainly was a good book you picked out for me
yesterday. Do you have any more suggestions?"
"Well - "
"Is this a good book?"
"'Winter Carnival'? That came in only yesterday.
All I know about it is that it is a college sports story."
"Sounds interesting* I'll take that one. I also
want something a bit 'heavier. *"
"This 'Ripe Breadfruit' is well recommended."
"I'll take that, too."
"Good afternoon." She is gone, leaving a ray of
sunshine behind her*
Mrs. Sleeper is my next caller. The poor lady, be-
sides being old, is deaf and has poor eyes.
"Is James Hilton '3 'Was It Murder' in?"
"Yes, it is."
"That print is not very large, is it?"
She continues to ask me if certain books are in.
Those that are all have too small print* Finally, as she seems
about to leave without a book, I make one last, floundering effort
to "pull the right line."
"Have you read Rupert Hughes' new book, 'The Man with
a Home*? The print is quite large, and we just received it the day
It is with a feeling of relief and pride in my sales-
manship that I bid her "Good afternoon."
I worked there several months, and from this position
I received far more than a small salary - I received an introduction
i/^ w .^— — ; .t24^— <_
L Jl^\ R^ 1^«* Hem we all lor© it. 1 I awake
VJ| with a sleepy, happy feeling that erer. the jangle
of the breakfast bell and the bitter thought of
unprepared lessons cannot subdue* Then the mad rush of the day
Breakfast* Hurried, dripping spoonfuls of oatmeal*
Crunohy toast* Rhetoric, with half the class late* Themes* Lis-
tening to Prof Marquart, - breathlessly* Then the sweet, mellow
atmosphere of Professor Angell's class, - Prof Angell, with his
kindly, searching, heart-warming lectures. And so on down to French,
where fun and "Hubie's" accent reign supreme*
At last comes a breathing spell - but not for long,
for chapel has already begun and I hare to crawl past a row of girls
to get to my seat* Trying to be still, trying to relax my anxious
tension, I listen to President Gardner's quiet, well-chosen words of
And then comes lunch - never a rery sociable meal*
Boys in sweat-shirts. Boiled hash* A thumping of napkin rings,
a scraping of chairs, and then the real work of the day begins* On
to the office until 5:00. Brusque dictation, aching back, - but al-
ways something to joke about, and sometimes a bag of cookies or
apples from the "boss"*
Now I can really slow down a little, leisurely wash
and oomb, and talk orer the day's affairs with my roommate, for
dinnertime is at hand* This is the best meal of the day, for all
are cheerful and gay and hopeful. Hopeful of what? They don't
know* Anything - a good time, a good meal, a muoh wanted smile*
Reluctantly we linger oyer the crumbs and the extra forks until
ereryone who needs to work off his excess energy has made his
funny announcements then we go to prayer meeting, or study, or oom-
mittee meetings, or clubs, or missions, or to any one of a hundred
But usually we end up in someone else's room dis-
oussing life, past, present, and future* A dormitory is the best
plaoe in the world in which to giTe and take confidences* We seem
to be wasting time, but I often wonder if we really are* It isn't
suoh a waste of time, after all, to be interested in one's friends,
to share their joys and sorrows, to laugh and cry together*
Once I read a little thought that has been a part
of my life erer sinoe. It was that all our lires we are paoking
a treasure ohest of memories to dream about when we are old* It
is for us to choose our memories, - sweet ones, sad ones, or mem-
ories of which we might be ashamed.
These are memories that will some day be Tery dear
to us, these dormitory days*
RULES FCR BOYS DCRMS
1* Boys wishing to get up without an alarm may hare self -rising
flour for dinner*
2» Boys wishing to do a little driving will find nails and hammer
in the Dean's office*
3* If the room gets too warm, open the door and watch the fire es-
4* If you are fond of good athletics and like good jumping, lift
the mattress and watch the bed spring*
5* If your lamp goes out, take a feather out of your pillowj
that's light enough for any room*
6* Anyone troubled with nightmares will find a halter on the bed
7* Don't worry about paying your bill* Each dorm is supported by
f I I/ 1 ' - f
Nathan Miller: "Did you get a H thoa© questions in the test?"
A* Kleppy: *Yes, it was the answers I missed* M
Bernioe Seamans: "All men are fools."
Elliott Gordon: "Yes, we were made fools so you girls wouldn't
hare to be old maids."
Dean Griffin: "i shall hate to put you fellows in the same bed
Red and H. T. : "That's all right."
Dean: "Well, I think you'll haTe a comfortable night.
It's a feather bed."
At two o'olosk in the morning Red awoke H. T.
"Change places with me", he groaned, "it's
my turn to lie on the feather!"
Bob Mortensen, coming into the office just before dinner:
"i know why Margie's so happy."
Margie Hill: "Why?"
Bob: "Because it's almost 'Melin' time."
Joe Phile: "You look like a nice sensible girl. Let's get
Joan Norris: "No, I'm just as nice and sensible as I look."
When he sneaked in at three
With guilt in his eyes.
Dean asked him no questions;
He knew all the lies*
Prof Span: "Harry, what is a metaphor?"
Harry: "To keep cows in."
Lady in Quincy Market:
"it's tough when you hare to pay fifty cents a pound
Glenn Tyner: "it's tougher when you pay twenty-fire cents a pound."
Store Bennett: "in the Ad Building the other day my suspenders
broke in the hall."
Betty Thome: "Weren't you terribly embarrassed?"
Stere: "Oh, it wasn't so bad. My room-oate had them on."
Boardnan: "i understand you bought this car for a song."
MaoKay: "Not quite; but I did gire a lot of notes for it."
Nurse, (sadly): "jaok will nerer be able to work again."
Quiggin: "I'll go and tell him. It will cheer him up."
Prof Marquart coming into World History - "Order, please."
Earl Wolfe: "Ham sandwich."
H. T«: "How about a haircut Kleppy?"
Rua: "Want a ohange of oil too?"
Prof Garrison: "I adTise you to use India ink for your lab
Mary Larson, from the rear of the class: "No, sir, I won't.
I patronize hone industries*"
Jack Lanpher: "Did you notice how ray roioe filled the chapel?"
Horaer Smith: "I did. Seteral people left to make room for it."
Prof Span: " Do you think paper can be used effectirely to
keep people warn?"
Weston Jones: "i should say so * The last report card I sent
hoae kept the family hot for a week."
Blanche McEenzie: "Oh, he's so reraantio. When he addresses me
he always calls no "fair lady?.
Joan Norris: "Poroe of habit, Blanohe. He's a street-oar
Betty Gatchell: "When do you do your hardest work?"
Bob Mitchell: "Before breakfast, always."
Betty Gatchell: "What do you do?"
Bob Mitohell: "Try to get out of bed."
Weston Jones: "These are especially strong shirts* They simply
laugh at the laundry*"
Earl Wolfe: "l know that kind; I had some cone baok with their
sides split* n
A certain lazy student in Latin had acquired the habit of being
prompted by a boy who sat beside him* One day the t eacher asked
him to gi*e the four principle parts of the verb "to praise"*
Straining his ear he heard the boy beside him say, "i dunno*"
Immediately he responded to the teacher's question* "dunno*
dunnare, dunnaTi, dunnatus*"
Alrin Kauffman: "if there's anything I detest it's lipstick*"
Eliott Gordon: "Well - - some kinds are better than others."
Fotoula: "You oertainly ha-ve a good eppetite."
John Ooleman: "I ought to* I*Te practiced all my life*"
Robert Kirkland: "I knocked 'em cold in Rhetoric today."
Virginia Hawk: "How's that?"
Kirkland: "i got aero."
Has anyone seen John Ashe's new topcoat? It's blue, with tassels
Rosa Rice: (speaking for the offioe girls)
"Please go out and get us some ioe-oream, Les."
Leslie MaoKay: "Say, listen* I know I need a share, but do I
look like Santa Claus?"
Bill Ashe: "I got so homesick last night that I had to go out and
buy John a box of ohooolates."
First Pro8h: "What is your brother in college?"
Second Frosh: "A half-baok."
First Froah: "i wean in studies."
Second Frosh: "Oh, he's way back."
Robinson Crusoe was glad when Friday came - but not so glad as we
Prof. Span. "Suppose you went to the library for material on
feudalism, what would you do first?"
Peckam: "Open the door."
Abraham: "i had all the girls running around in circles."
Mitchell: "What are you supposed to be the oolle ge sheik?"
Abraham: "No, the girls coach."